


Five Things that Might or Might Not Have Happened to Kathryn Janeway

by fewthistle



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fewthistle/pseuds/fewthistle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five moments that may or may not have happened to Kathryn Janeway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Things that Might or Might Not Have Happened to Kathryn Janeway

**I. Soar**  
  
The balloon cavorted with the afternoon breeze, vibrant and red against a blue sky the Master himself would have envied. Tethered to the end of it, as inconstant and ephemeral as the red balloon itself, was a small blonde child, eyes as clear and unclouded as the heavens above her. Her face was turned up in unconscious, inexplicable joy, though whether it was directed at the balloon or the sky or the simple wonder of it all, Kathryn couldn't tell.  
  
“Do you ever think that one of these days, when the wind is just right, and the sky is the bluest shade of blue it will ever be, she'll simply float away with her balloon?” Kathryn mused quietly, her words barely reaching the woman lying on the checkered blanket beside her, blonde hair tousled, blue eyes drowsy.  
  
“You know that the laws of physics prevent that from happening. Her body is too heavy to be lifted by a single balloon. Perhaps a hundred such balloons, with the exact wind velocity could achieve it, but not one,” Seven answered, quite seriously, although the slight smile that twitched at the corners of her mouth gave her away.  
  
“Then we'll just have to give her a hundred balloons,” Kathryn laughed, her gaze full of love for mother and child. “After all, any child of ours just has to be able to fly.”  
  
  
 **II. Falling**  
  
“If you don't leave right now, you'll miss the entire ceremony,” her mother prodded.  
  
Turning to meet her eyes, Kathryn could see the sympathy. See it, but not bear it.  
  
“I'm not going.” Even to her own ears her voice sounded strange: flat, hollow, defeated.  
  
“Kathryn Janeway, I did not bring you up to be a coward. You've faced being stranded and alone 70,000 light years from home. You can face this. Besides, more than anything I didn't raise you to be an ungrateful friend, and these are your friends. They need you to be there, to stand up with them,” Gretchen Janeway intoned solemnly, her hand warm on Kathryn's cheek.  
  
“Gracious even in defeat, eh, Mother? Is that what Dad would have done, smiled and watched you marry his best friend?” Kathryn asked bitterly, turning away from the comfort of her mother's touch.  
  
“You had nearly five years to tell her you love her, Kathryn. Just what exactly was it you were waiting for?”  
  
  
 **III. Reality**  
  
Sometimes, in her dreams, she remembered another life. In it, there were stars that flowed past her window, like the lights of Paris outside the darkened panes of glass as the train sped through the night. She would wake from an uneasy slumber with fleeting images of fantastical places, of ships that sailed through the heavens. The images left her disconsolate and preoccupied.  
  
She tried to shake them, push them from her thoughts. She couldn't afford to indulge in fantasy. Just one slip could get her killed. Get them all killed.  
  
Still, the visions plagued her, scenes of a life she had never known appearing at random moments. She tried to tell Anna about them, but words always failed her. Besides, Anna would think that the strain of leading the underground cell had finally pushed her to madness.  
  
At length, she was able to rationalize them. They were simple really; perfectly understandable longings for a life with no death, no destruction, no smirking enemy. A life free of kill or be killed, of fighting for survival. Free of the cold, cruel eyes of their Nazi invaders.  
  
What harm could it possibly do if in her dreams, Katrine became this woman, this captain, Kathryn Janeway, with her ship sailing through a sea of stars?  
  
  
 **IV. Sleep**  
  
“Why do you watch me sleep?” Kathryn asked over her morning coffee. Seven sat across from her, taking a few perfunctory bites of the muffin that Kathryn has placed before her.  
  
“Correct me if I am wrong, but did you not come into the Cargo Bay on a regular basis and watch me regenerating?” Seven countered, her rather blatant attempt to alter the course of the conversation not lost on her captain.  
  
“Yes, I did. You're trying to change the subject. Come on, answer the question. Every night this week I have woken up to find you watching me. Now tell me, why?” Kathryn replied quickly, an edge of curiosity and something else, something a little less confident in her voice.  
  
For some minutes Seven didn't answer. A slight frown creased the smooth line of her forehead and she appeared to be grappling with a reply.  
  
“Seven?”  
  
At the look of apprehension on Janeway's face, Seven finally relented.  
  
“It is the only time that you allow yourself to be happy,” she answered quietly. “I don't want to miss it.”  
  
  
 **V. Flight**  
  
She stood on the edge of the barn roof. She could feel the warmth of the wood beneath the soles of her bare feet, and the empty air beneath her heels, as they hung over the solid ledge.  
  
Behind her, on the ground below, was a huge pile of hay; spiky, spindly golden straw, bright against the green of the meadow that rolled out toward the horizon, an unbroken carpet of thick grass, lush and soft.  
  
Above her, there was only the sun and the clear blue of the Indiana sky.  
  
Five year old Kathryn Janeway stood for a moment, the light warm on her skin, the slight breeze just ruffling her bangs. Then she stretched out her arms, closed her eyes and pushing off with her toes, arched gracefully through the bright morning air.  
  
She landed with a muted thud in the middle of the hay pile, the air rushing from her lungs. She heard her mother scream from the farmhouse doorway, felt her father's hands grasp her none too gently, pulling her upright, forcing her lungs to expand, to drag in the hay scented air.  
  
“Kathryn, what in heavens' name were you thinking?” Gretchen Janeway cried, nearly smothering Kathryn as she held her tightly. “You could have been killed.”  
  
“I know. But just for a minute there, I was flying,” little Kathryn replied.  
  
Forty years later, her ship in ruins around her, Kathryn Janeway remembered what five year old Kathryn had realized even then. Those few precious seconds of flight had been well worth the risk of something as simple as dying.


End file.
